Shifting Sands
by EKWTSM9
Summary: A short one-shot in response to a recent prompt. Enough said!


**Shifting Sands**

" _Look, ah, he didn't want to do anything last year and he's said the same thing this year. And I'm going to respect his wishes, Steve… this year at least. He tries to make it seem like he's gotten over my mom's death but he really hasn't, and he finds special occasions, like anniversaries and birthdays, still really hard."_

"Yeah, I can understand that. But still, I'd like to do something…"

" _Do us all a favor, please, and just let it go, okay? Maybe next year, when you and he have had more than a full year together under your belts and it's not my first year away and it'll be more than two since Mom died. And then we can do it right, with a party and everything. How does that sound?"_

"You can be a very persuasive woman, Jeannie Stone. All right, you win. But next year – next year will be a different story."

The conversation ended with warm chuckles on both ends of the line. The young man on the San Francisco side stared at the receiver in his hand for several long seconds before he put it down.

# # # # #

It was late afternoon when Assistant Inspector Steve Keller got up from his desk and wandered to the door of the glass-walled inner office. In rolled-up shirtsleeves, a pencil in his right hand and his thick black reading glasses on, Lieutenant Mike Stone was poring over a report, brows knit in concentration, unaware of the intrusion into the fringe of his peripheral vision.

The younger man waited for several seconds, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, a slight smile crinkling his eyes. He gently cleared his throat and watched his partner's head snap up, the frown turning into a soft smile of his own. "Oh, ah… sorry, didn't know you were there."

"Is it okay?" Steve asked, gesturing towards the report with his chin.

Looking confused for a split second, Mike dropped his gaze to the papers in his hand. "This? This is fine, just fine. I made a couple of little notes… just a couple of things that should be added, but other than that, it's great."

Steve approached the desk and held his right hand out expectantly.

Mike looked at the outstretched hand then up at the face above it. "What?"

"Give it to me and I'll retype it and then we can get outa here. I thought you said you wanted to get home early tonight?"

"I do, but this can wait till tomorrow morning. Nobody's gonna read it tonight anyway so why does it matter." He dropped the report on the desk and pushed his chair back. "Look, we've had a long week. Why don't we call it a night, what do you say?"

"I say that sounds like a plan, Lieutenant."

"Good," Mike chuckled with a grin as he started to roll his sleeves down, watching his partner turn and head back to his own desk, rolling his own sleeves down and doing up the cuff buttons. By the time the younger man had shrugged into his tweed sportscoat the lieutenant was standing beside the outer office desk with his suit jacket on and fedora in hand.

As they left the still busy office and headed into the corridor, the inspector glanced casually over his shoulder. Mike had dropped the hat unceremoniously onto his head and was walking with his eyes down and hands in his pants pockets. "Say, ah, are you just going to go home tonight or, ah, are you up for a night out maybe?"

The older man gave him a slight but wary sidelong glance. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

Steve had stuck his right hand into his inside jacket pocket and it had come out with what looked like two tickets. "I just happen to have a couple of tickets to the Warriors game tonight and I thought you might be interested in going."

"Tonight's game?"

"Umh-humh. Court-side," he crowed slightly, holding the tickets out a little further so the big man could see them.

Mike's eyes slid from the tickets to his partner's eager face and Steve could see a slight uncertainty in the blue eyes, as if the older man couldn't believe what he had just heard. "Court-side?"

Grinning, Steve nodded quickly with raised eyebrows, knowing he had peaked his partner's interest.

"How did you get court-side tickets?"

With a cheeky snort, the younger man pulled the tickets away, as if to put them back in his pocket. "Hey, if you're not interested…?" he began with a shrug.

"I didn't say that," Mike said quickly, his hand darting out to pull the tickets from the smaller man's grasp. He held them out at arm's length, squinting to try to make out the black typewritten words on the gold and white cardboard rectangle. "How did you get court-side tickets?" he asked again, almost to himself.

"So… you wanna go? We can pick up some dogs at the stadium, make a night of it? What do you say?"

Mike looked at him suspiciously, still holding the tickets. His grin was slow to build but it was genuine. "I'd like that," he said quietly with a nod, handing the tickets back as they approached the elevator.

"Great," Steve said, chuckling, as he took the tickets and returned them to his inside jacket pocket before pushing the Down button.

# # # # #

"No no no, these are on me," Steve shouted over the roar of the crowd as Mike reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. "I told you in the car, tonight's on me. I didn't pay anything for the tickets, so the dogs and the beers are on me."

Mike, his fedora pushed back on his head and his tie loosened, was staring at him through narrowed eyes, his hand still on his wallet. "Are you sure?"

With a grin and a nod, Steve took the four all-dressed hotdogs from the patient vendor, handing them over to Mike while he slipped his own wallet from his pants pocket and took out a twenty.

"Well, thank you, I appreciate it, buddy boy." He handed two of the hotdogs back, still staring at the younger man with an almost awed gratitude.

"You're welcome," Steve chuckled, stuffing one end of the wiener and bun into his mouth, turning back to the fast-paced game unfolding mere feet from where they sat on metal chairs near the Warriors bench.

Still staring at his partner gratefully, Mike took a bite of his hotdog then turned his attention back to the game. Steve glanced at him sideways and smiled to himself.

# # # # #

The final buzzer sounded and the arena erupted in chaos, everyone shooting to their feet, thrilled that the home team had pulled off another important win. The Warriors players gathered around the bench, congratulating each other and their coaching staff.

The homicide detectives were on their feet as well, eyeing their victorious home team, still somewhat bewildered that they had spent the entire game mere inches from the action.

Steve watched closely as one of the players detached himself from the others, returned to the bench and, leaning over, pulled what looked to be a new ball from under the bench. A young man in a dark suit approached the player, speaking to him quickly and pointing in Mike and Steve's direction. The player crossed the few feet to where Steve was standing and held out his hand.

"Hey, there… uh, Steve, is it?"

Shaking the tall black player's hand, Steve nodded.

"I think this is for you," Nate Thurmond said with a wide smile, handing the much shorter man the basketball. Still grinning, he turned to Mike, who had been staring at him with unabashed admiration, and shook his hand as well. "Thanks for coming to the game."

Thurmond spun quickly and joined his colleagues as they disappeared down the tunnel to the dressing room, leaving the still cheering fans behind them.

Steve turned to look at Mike, who was staring at him with a furrowed brow. "You know Nate Thurmond?" the older man asked softly, almost in awe.

"Ah, um, ah no… no, I don't. But a friend of mine does." He nodded towards the young man in the dark suit who had disappeared, following the team into the tunnel. "We went to Berkeley together. He went from criminal law to sports management. Quite a few of the Warriors players are his clients."

Mike's grin got a little bigger. "You've been holding out on me, buddy boy, with connections like that." He nodded towards the basketball. "That's quite the little souvenir you got there."

The younger man shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at the ball. As he had hoped, it had been signed by every member of the team. With an almost self-conscious clearing of his throat, he held the ball out towards his partner. "This isn't for me… it's for you."

Mike's smile disappeared and his eyes, which had narrowed, travelled from his partner's to the ball and back again. "What are you talking about?"

Steve's grin got a little bigger. "This is for you." He shifted the ball to emphasize his point.

Almost reluctantly, Mike reached out and took the autographed basketball almost reverently in both hands, his eyes moving slowly from the autographs on the dark orange pebbled surface to his partner's smiling green eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Mike."


End file.
